Superman's Dead
by ShadowSilence
Summary: [Resident Evil: Survivor] The life of an imprisoned boy. You've read his diary, but his end was left to be assumed. He was one of those guiena pigs that were slaughtered. From his last diary entry to his last breathe, he was brave. [complete]


Title: Superman's Dead  
  
Author: Crystal (Shadow Silence)  
  
Rating: Ehhh. PG? Nope. Definitely PG-13.  
  
Original Post Date: January 14, 2003  
  
Revised: May 17, 2004  
  
Genre: Drama  
  
Resident Evil Game: Resident Evil Survivor  
  
Summary: You remember that imprisoned boy's diary, right? You remember the mass guinea pig suicide, or rather, the mass guinea pig escape? And you remember how Vincent slaughtered them all? Yeah, you do. This is from the 'imprisoned boy's' point of view. From his last journal entry to his last breath.  
  
Author Notes: Reading this kid's diary just pulled at my heartstrings, and I had to write something about him. You don't ever see him, no one even really knows who he is, and he sure as hell isn't even given a name. He's dead. But yet his death served to bring attention to the experiments, thus ending up stopping Vincent's experiments. Not stopping all of the experiments or even touching Umbrella really, but not letting the Sheena Island's civilians go without a price for cooperating with umbrella.  
  
Reviews: Thank you to everyone whom reviewed. I fixed the typo you pointed out Shadow-OoR. I hope that's the last of them.  
  
Superman's Dead  
  
How many days have I been confined here? How many weeks? It's been over a month for sure. As I sit here, alone, in my tiny cell, curled up on the only source of comfort I am given; a hard, filthy, smelly, bed. Strange, I've become use to this bed. I hate this bed, I hate this room, I hate this place, but yet I've become use to it all. I think it's because they've broken me. . . I'm still trying to escape this hell hole, as of today I was just rounding up and preparing for the big breakout we've planned for tonight. . . As much as I'm praying we'll make it out, a part of me has already given up any hope of getting off this island.  
  
There is no way off this island. Not for guinea pigs. Everyone on this island works for Umbrella or is supported by them, meaning they wouldn't help us, but rather turn us in at first glance. It's simply impossible. Not only would we have to get out of this place, but through the town without being spotted and we'd also have to get a ride off of this island.  
  
If we didn't make it out. . . If Vincent found us. . . We'd be shot on sight. But that compared to having our skulls cut open, sounds like a much better death. Besides, I'd rather die trying to escape, than just cowering and listening to their every command like a dog. . .no. Like a guinea pig. . . I could use the saying here, "Poke a dog with a stick and it'll bite."  
  
I really have given up hope. We are going to die. . . Despite that piece I want to call fact, I wasn't going down without a fight.  
  
I sighed, and I cast my eye's glare downward at the journal I was clutching in my hands. My knuckles were white. . . My gaze changed to one of amusement. I had been gripping the small journal so tight it had made my knuckles become white. . . Was it out of fright? Or perhaps anger that I was going to die? Was it because I didn't want to die?  
  
It was all of them. But really, I wanted to die, or at least I should. Living here isn't even living, it has no purpose. . . still though you are living. You're still breathing, speaking, -human.- And I surely won't be going to heaven; was hell where I was going to be sent to? It didn't matter. Anything looked better than this. . . I can't quite understand why I'm scared . . . Maybe I do have some hopes that we'll live. Dreams, wishes, that someone will save us. . . But I know reality is that kind as to save us. I know we're going to die, I just can't accept it. I don't want to.  
  
I growled at myself, at how pathetic I was being. Just to get my mind off my thoughts I opened my journal, switching it back to the first page. The first day I was given this journal. . . It was September 5th? It seems like it's been so much longer than that. . . And I'd already been here 16 days.  
  
"September 5th 16 days have passed since I was abducted on a street in Congo by the men in black, and was brought here. I didn't understand what was happening at first, but I gradually became aware of the truth of this city. We seem to be confined here to serve as guinea pigs for a medical company called Umbrella Inc.. All the residents of this city work for Umbrella, even the women and children are family members of employees.  
  
The guinea pigs seem to be gathered from all over the world. The guy in the next room is from China, the one in the front of my cell is from Brazil. The rest are Russian, Japanese... It's like a world trade show. Its strange that they are all around my age.  
  
The youngest is 16, and the oldest is 19 or 20. Those guys from Umbrella sometimes take us to an arcade or to a nightclub so we can enjoy ourselves and relieve our stress, but I won't let them deceive me. I will escape from this place, no matter what it takes! I must... Anyway, the most important thing to do now is to organize and gather our comrades for what lies ahead."  
  
I whispered the words to myself, knowing every word that followed; how many times had I read this entry? I flipped to the next entry, September 10th. . . That was when I first started to be picky about my food.  
  
"September 10th Recently, the others have been behaving strangely. It seems that they have put some kind of weird drug into our meals. I sometimes lose consciousness, too. I have to be careful."  
  
I turned the page, Septemeber 21st. Chin. The day he was taken to the factory. It had been the biggest surprise, and I was nearly in pieces. . . Chin and I had gotten close and quick, we'd know each other since my first day here, he was the first guy I met. . . And later that night I had eavesdropped on one of the factory workers many conversations at the club and found out exactly what happens at the factory. It was the first major impact that prompted me to actually make a large organized plan to get us out of here.  
  
"September 21st I can't believe it! Another friend of mine, Chin, from the next room, was taken to the factory on the mountain. I don't think Chin's coming back. He will meet the same fate as Anna or Jacob who disappeared last week. I know... I know what happens to those who are taken to the factory on the mountain... When they took me to a nightclub yesterday, I overheard a conversation that some factory workers were having... Under orders from Vincent, the commander of the city, they cut open our brains and extract some kind of material, whatever they call it. All I can say is that Vincent is a devil. No... Not just Vincent. Even the women and children in this city don't treat us as human beings, but as guinea pigs. All the people in the city are evil. I will surely be killed if I stay here any longer. We have to hurry and execute our escape plan!"  
  
Lastly, there was yesterday's entry. I smiled as I flipped to that page.  
  
"October 9th The time has come. I have noticed the Umbrella people have been visibly disturbed for about a week or so. Rumor has it that there was a terrible accident at the Umbrella laboratory somewhere in America. All the prison guards seem to be very busy gathering information on the accident, so security isn't as tight. We've organized our comrades already. Stojkovic and Enriquez are supposed to steal the keys from the guards, Sankhon and I will act as decoys, and Yoshikawa and Fellipe are in charge of gathering weapons."  
  
And that was our plan, well, only the basics. The rest of the plan was still in my head; we had just finished working it out at the nightclub tonight. It was about time I get that plan and entry onto paper. It could, very well, be my last journal entry.  
  
I quickly glanced around my tiny cell, trying to locate my only pen. . . It should be near by. . . Wher- Ah-ha! It was resting right beside me on the bed, and here I was expecting it to be on the floor. My weapon, my pen, now in hand, I adjusted the journal so it was sitting on my knees at an angle where I could write. And let the words flow.  
  
"October 10th We have decided on our escape route. The plan will be carried out at 11pm tonight. We have twenty members separated into two units: Unit A and Unit B. Unit A will go into the sewer through the ventilation slot of the confinement room, while Unit B will use a rope to climb down from the surveillance tower. We'll use the rope they used to tie us. If we fail, Vincent will surely kill us. But if we stay here, Vincent will order them to cut our brains eventually. We're dead either way, but I'd rather die trying to escape...]]]]  
  
My exact thoughts written down. . . My last entry. . . I wonder if anyone will even read this? . . . of course not . . . If so it'll be one of those guard clearing out my tiny cell. I can see it now, them picking it up and reading the first page and then just laughing and trashing the journal. I wonder why I even bother writing in it. . .  
  
It had to be eleven. I suddenly realized I had once again lost track of time. . . It seems to come with the benefit of not having a watch and being drugged all at the same time.  
  
'Bout time for Sankhon and I to get to work. Though we were the decoys, we were also basically in charge of our respective units. I was with Unit B and he was with Unit A. As the decoys and leaders, we were to be always last to enter a room. Despite that we weren't the "Unit" leaders; they were two different people. I believe Yoshikawa and Fellipe? Yeah, I think, because they'll be the ones with the actual weapons. They go in first and give commands. Sankhon and myself give warning and advise orders.  
  
I heard the beep of a watch, from one of the other's I suppose, signaling the hour. 11.pm. Getting more than a little restless I stood up, getting away from the shitty bed, and I sat my journal and pen down on the shitty desk in my tiny cell.  
  
"Com'on guys." I heard myself whisper, unintentionally. I do believe Sankhon heard me, because he was pacing in the cell in front of mine, and he looked up at me and grinned. A shaky grin, but Sankhon was a jokester and was never able to look at anything seriously, the slight waver in his grin was more than enough to explain he was just as nervous as me.  
  
I felt my lips curl upwards in a grin, I gave him a wink, and a thumbs up, mouthing, "we're gonna kick some ass." Yeah, you probably guessed it, I'm just as much of a jokester. . . Possibly the reason him and I were a given choice to be the decoys? We're loud, we're annoying, we're hyper, and dammit, they love us for it. If it wasn't for us, we all would have went insane.  
  
Any further thoughts I had on the matter were quickly interrupted by the jingling of keys. Yep, let's go. I'm as ready as I am gonna be. I ran a hand through my matted, dirty black hair. Nervous? Yup. Still gonna kick ass though.  
  
Within a few seconds, Enriquez and Stojkovic were standing in front of my cell door. "Let's go already!" I whispered grinning. The reason we chose 11pm is because that is when the shifts change, there is a 10 minute break before any more guards get up here, still though, I was too nervous to be loud.  
  
With another jingle sound, my door was open, and I could only smile as I stepped out of my prison. . . Every time I stepped out the door it felt the same; like I was being freed. This time wasn't an exception.  
  
Standing by my door was the already free Yoshikawa. One of the few ladies going on the escape with, and boy is she a lady. More like a tom boy! She listens to punk, has many piercings, and is an excellent shot, the reason she is the leader of Unit B. Noticing I was staring at her, she lifted a thin black eyebrow. I was just about to make a flirtatious remark, but an arm being draped around my shoulder's took me by surprise, and instantly shut me up. It was only Sankhon.  
  
"Eh, Yoshikawa, bust a cap in Vincent's ass, kay! Meanwhile, prettyboi and I are gonna be making quite the scene!" I made an indigent sound at being called 'prettyboi', but it was a nickname I had acquired in the beginning when I was complaining about how filthy and dirty everything was here. I struggled out of Sankhon's grasp, just in time to see Fellipe get released from his own cell, with an insane grin.  
  
"I'll do that for her, any day of the week!" He said, already motioning for us to get moving. Both Yoshikawa and Fellipe had their guns, but I was curious as to how they had managed to sneak 'em by the guards, or hell, even get a hold of them.  
  
I once again gasped in surprise, when I felt a pair of arms wrap around me. . . "See ya in hell, buddy," Sankhon whispered, and I only smiled sadly, returning the quick hug. I guess we both knew we were gonna die, of course, he would be forward about it. At least to me. Him and I had gotten close, but I never had really paid attention to how close. Best buds.  
  
"Yea. . . too bad we couldn't have met on brighter circumstances. Oi, look, when we get to hell, don't forget to give me a call." I said, before giving him a tight squeeze and then releasing him, we both knew we had to get going or we would be caught before we even took off. Still, I heard him chuckle at the sad joke. Unit A was going straight and Unit B was going to the left. As I waited for my unit to get through the tiny door, I gave him a last glance as him and Unit A exited the door. . . And then I exited my own Unit's.  
  
I rolled my eyes at the annoying fact that I had to stay at the back of the line, but I was so nervous, it was a good thing. My hands were shaking. . . So were my legs. . . My entire body was shivering and it wasn't from the cold, but more from fear as we trudged on. Each and every step we made resounded through the ways. . . It was a little unnerving.  
  
We exited through yet another door, and by the time I got there I realized we were already at the surveillance tower, or at least the place where we were going down. . . I sighed at how distracted I was getting; I was spacing out too much. I stayed in the back, my arms crossed over my chest, as a few of the guys and Yoshikawa tied the rope and prepared to start descending.  
  
My head snapped to the side when we heard the sound of familiar voices screaming mixed with gunfire. In a minute, both noises were gone. We all knew what fate our friends had met. "Unit A. . ." I gaped at the door, feeling my stomach sink, and I swear I felt bile burning at the back of my throat. That was it. We were next. We were going to die.  
  
Yoshikawa was already prepared and starting to descend and I saw her gun sitting on the side of the tower, next to a few others. Everyone was starting to panic, become louder, crying. . . Then I heard Yoshikawa, "Shut up, unless you want me to kill you myself!" . . . I couldn't even speak . . . I just slipped over and grabbed the gun, I think it is a Berretta? Or something similar. . .  
  
Before I had chance to do anything, the door behind us was yanked open and there stood Vincent, his gun aimed, I swear, straight for me. With the cruelest smile I've ever seen on something that is suppose to be human, he pulled the trigger. I was to nervous to even move to dodge, and I was holding my breathe praying to whatever god wanted to listen that it hit me somewhere where it would instantly kill me. . . But it went sailing past me.  
  
My head spun in disbelief, my eyes trailing the bullet to see who it hit, but much to my surprise it didn't hit anyone. . . It wasn't until I heard Yoshikawa's scream that I understood what he had hit. The rope. I cringed when the screaming came to a halt and there was the sickening sound of bones breaking and meeting pavement.  
  
But I didn't have time to think of that. With one swift motion I had the gun up, and safety off, and I pulled back the trigger not even aiming it or even sure how to aim it. I was the only one shooting. I realized only hearing my shot, but once my eyes landed on Vincent I realized it had been a failed attempted. I shot again and it missed again. Dammit, what was I doing wrong! Just when I was about to try a third time I saw Vincent aim.  
  
"Give it up, boy."  
  
Bang.  
  
One shot and I was down in a whimpering, bleeding mess, my gun clattering as it slid towards that bastard . . . I saw his lips twitch upwards when I fell. . . With my body against the cold, wet, cement, I lifted my hand to my chest, where I had been shot. I felt it, yet it was only a numb ache. As I pulled my hand back I saw my bloody hand, I let it fall to the ground . . . It must have missed my heart. Damn my luck. . . the handgun was only a foot away, but those few inches put it right at Vincent's feet. I don't know what the other boys were doing. Cowering in fear and trying to get down the tower, I guess. I was just laying here on my side, bleeding to death, and no one of these cowards had the guts to help me.  
  
I didn't even raise my head when I saw out of my peripheral vision Vincent taking aim again. I closed my eyes, my vision was getting blurry anyway. I felt my heart racing when I heard a round of handgun shots come from that gun of Vincent's. I grimaced when I heard the bodies' fall, one even landed almost on top of me. I was lying in a big enough pool of my own blood, but it was also the other's blood, it was wetting my hair, sticking to my face. . .The final sickening pop of one head being shot off, was enough. I could feel the bile burning my throat.  
  
I screamed in pure pain when I was stepped on right where the bullet had hit. My eyes screwed close, and I just panted for a minute until I realized the foot wasn't leaving my chest. I opened my eyes, trying to glare up at who I presumed was Vincent, though my vision was so blurry I was seeing three of him, I could still make out that he had the evil smirk still on his face. Between my pained pants for breath, I spat out in disgust, "Bastard!" That only drew a chuckle from him.  
  
"You were behind this weren't you?" I heard him say, and I didn't even answer. I just closed my eyes, still panting. I didn't care. If you want to think that, sure. "No one is spoiling my dream, kid."  
  
Bang. 


End file.
